


Bull/Inquisitor Week 2016

by olliolli_oxenfree



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, every other companion gets at least one cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19333375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olliolli_oxenfree/pseuds/olliolli_oxenfree
Summary: A reposting of my old BIW fills so they're in chaptered form rather than parts. Chapter titles are the prompts. Some minor grammatical edits.Chapters range from pre-relationship to Trespasser and somehow all miraculously follow a linear timeline.





	1. The Captain of the Chargers

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to all you lovely readers who gave kudos / comments / reblogs / bookmarks (which I still can't believe) to the original AO3 and tumblr posts.
> 
> Huge thanks to new and returning readers alike for letting me gush in story-form about my fave Inquizzie.

“Alright, Sera. Shall we start a list?”

“Sure. _Bugs._ ” Sera slapped at one on her neck.

“There goes my first one. _Mm_ …muggy.”

“Least your hair’s long enough to put up—”

“Barely.”

“We could catch plague from those bodies. That's for the list.”

“Water’s high enough to get in my boots.”

“I'm surprised neither of you have mentioned the undead,” Solas observed.

Kendra waved the suggestion away. “Nah. The undead’s what lends this place it’s _ambiance_.”

Sera stuck her tongue out at the nasal tilt of Orlesian Kendra gave the word. “ _Ugh._ Friggin’ _nob_."

“Speaking of the undead, everyone ready?”

“Give me but a moment more.” Kendra gave a nod to Solas’ request, and with lack of anything else to do started pulling at her gloves. Credit where credit was due, she’d adjusted to that thing on her palm pretty well. Not bad at all, Bull thought, considering she was kept busy enough with pulling the fledgling Inquisition into shape as well.

It had been several weeks since he joined, and there was still no one at the head of the damn thing. An organization with several heads could be a considerable threat, but the Inquisition was too young for that. Pulled five ways between the ambassador, the spymaster, the commander, Cassandra, and Kendra as it was, the Inquisition was more likely to break than see itself through its first year. The fact it hadn’t broken yet said a few good somethings about its leaders.

Kendra herself was no fool, as he had been pleased to note and less pleased to report. She was quick to spot strengths in a person and put them where their strength best suited them and balanced out a weakness. She did what she could to keep morale up, even if it meant making a list of reasons the Fallow Mire was the worst place they’d been to. But then, there were the ways her eyes would track a soldier as they approached and as they left. The way her laughter never came from her gut. That nervous tic she had, if it could be called a tic, where she would spin a dagger between her fingers when someone else might spin hair or rub their nails. She was on constant vigilance for some kind of betrayal.

Not that Bull could fault her.

“I am ready.”

Kendra beamed. “Light ‘er up!”

The vielfire torch flared to life, and an answering cry rose from the water. Kendra’s fingers circled the cap of a vial. Despite any trepidation she felt otherwise, she was not above using battle partners as terrain in a fight. The vial shattered and she disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

It was _on_.

The bog must have finally been running out of bodies. Only a handful rushed screeching to the shore. Half of them were down when the demon appeared. Bull swung his axe, the momentum alone enough to slice it in half—

Kendra was there.

Too fast and too close for him to stop. He grunted in surprise, trying anyway, and there was comprehension in the look shot over her shoulder.

Then she was gone.

Ducked out of the way, dropped to a knee as his blade sped over her. It embedded in the demon, slowed enough to not cause instant death. Then Kendra was on her feet again, launching herself forward and plunging a dagger into its rib cage. She turned and lunged again. Her arm followed through, a flash of metal whizzed past, and a throwing knife hit the throat of the last of the undead.

Silence fell.

“You okay?”

“Never better.” Her grin was weak, but her voice and hands were steady as she knelt to retrieve the blade from the demon. “Gotta admit, though, almost thought I wouldn’t— _Damn!_ ” She’d tried to push her hair back as though it was let down. It fell back to the base of her neck as the pins dropped to the ground. Not pins, he realized, needles. Coated in some type of poison, too, from the way she handled them. She tucked them in the pouch at her side with a sigh.

“Sera! You can add shitty hair accessories to the list!”

She turned to retrieve her thrown blade. As she did, the light of the vielfire torch caught her hair and it did that thing the sun was _really_ good at doing and turned it red. He’d spent the entire time between the Storm Coast and Haven thinking her hair was just a dark brown. Unfair, as by then she _knew_ he had a thing for redheads.

“Solas, you find the rune?”

“Here.”

“Great.” Kendra’s shoulder popped as she stretched her arms above her head. “Let’s keep moving. Any luck, and we’ll find our missing soldiers before… I dunno, you think it’s dusk yet?”

“Can’t tell the friggin’ time,” Serra muttered.

“I think it’s starting to rot my coat.” Kendra urged them together with a signal and started walking. “Sooner we get everyone safe to Haven the better.”

“It’s harder to _breathe_ here.”

Bull listened as they listed every terrible and not-so-terrible-but-damn-inconvenient thing about the Fallow Mire. He tossed his own addition out on the occasion, but really it wasn’t so bad. Crawling with walking corpses and demons, but those seemed to be the lesser evil when compared to the atmosphere. It was surprisingly humid for this far south, sure, but nothing like Seheron.

_"Do you ever think about what would happen if the Qunari conquered Orlais or Ferelden?"_

He hadn’t said what would happen to _her_ , partially because there were some things you never told anyone to their face—like the fact all the Chargers knew Skinner needed to share a bedroll with someone to sleep—and partially because the answer kept changing.

She would make a decent Ben-Hassrath. Good with people and secrets. Damn good fighter, too. She’d do well as a scholar. She had a thirst for knowledge and a memory to match. But, in the end, she was too volatile. Too quick to act, and with an impulse control the size of a gnat. Anyone who followed orders and was predictable didn’t get shit like _that_ on their hands.

The Mark may be interesting for study, but if it didn’t close when the Breach did anyone under the Qun would be sentenced to death. Neat tricks she could do with it, though.

Solas interrupted the list-making. “I must admit, I am impressed. You came away from nearly having your head removed without so much as a scratch.”

“It _was_ pretty close.”

Kendra looked from Solas to Bull, then up at Bull when her eyes met his shoulder. She was tall for a human. Wasn’t used to speaking to someone above eye-level.

“ _Pretty_ close, I’ll admit. Good thing that wasn’t the first time I had to duck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original posting of this chapter was titled "Duck Duck Demon". A fact I need you all to remember with as much fondness as I do.


	2. "...Demons, dragons, the bigger the better."

“You are...certain about this, Inquisitor?”

“Absolutely.” Kendra set the final rig of the lure in place. Cassandra gave her a skeptical look as she stood to survey their work. “Shame we can’t tell _when_ the dragon’s going to get here.”

“It may be a few hours,” Cassandra nodded to least crumbled of the ruins. “We should rest for...now.” A shriek echoed down from the sky. Kendra tracked the sound, and her heart dropped when she spotted the dragon.

Oh.

_Oh._

Oh, she had _so many_ regrets.

Bull gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Boss.”

“Mm?”

“You’re the _best_.”

“Nn.”

Cassandra and Bull both rushed forward. A part of her thought that maybe, just maybe, she should be up there with them, already invisible and ready to use Bull’s bulk as a place to spring her first attack. The rest of her was rooted firmly to the ground. At least that one small part of her had managed to grab a vial.

Why did she try to lure a High Dragon?

_Who_ tried to lure a High Dragon?

“Solas?”

“Yes, Inquisitor?” Ah, the solidarity in knowing someone carried the same apprehension she did.

“I am _so_ sorry.”

Then the dragon landed, and her fingers shattered glass.

Once in the thick of it, the fight was _amazing_. She learned soon into it that the best way for her to cause damage was to stay beneath it, attacking the legs. The scales there were small, but tough, and it took all her strength to get between them with a knife.

And really, who attacked a High Dragon with a _knife_?

Movement behind her. She jumped to the side and a clawed foot made the air where she had stood whistle. Bad idea to stay in one place. Again she leapt. Forward, scoring down the pads of the dragon’s foot. The great wings flapped overhead. The body above her contorted, was gone, and landed. Kendra grabbed another vial, smoke billowing around her to give enough cover to dash for it again.

The ground still shook from the impact. Not unlike...unlike…

Well, it had worked in Haven.

Stopping dead in her tracks she tossed a knife so both were held in her right hand. The dragon twisted its neck—it saw her, _shit_ —and reared back with fire in its jaws. She opened the rift above its shoulders.

Kendra ran into the shadow of the dragon. The Mark flared, keeping her tethered to her side of the Veil. Weapons in hand, she plunged both in a quick one-two succession to the leg already gashed open. She pivoted and repeated the attack on the other back leg. A blast of cold left frost on the seams of her coat. The dragon stumbled, fell, and the Mark burned as the rift collapsed.

She grunted, grabbed her forearm before she realized that meant dropping her knives.

_Son of a whore_ —dragon!

It was already dead. Blood coated the blade of Bull’s axe as he pulled it from the beast’s neck. Damn. Just lost that bet.

Good to know the rifts she opened closed on their own, though.

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra spun her by the shoulder— _use the poisoned ones at your hip left hand is free gauntlet on the arm aim for her eyes why weren’t you paying_ attention—but instead of the blazing fury she expected, Cassandra’s expression was full of concern. “Are you alright?”

“...Fine.” Her voice was small. They did just take down a dragon. She could pass it off as that.

“May I see the Mark?”

Solas, too, had approached without her notice. Kendra removed her glove and held out her hand for inspection. Yes, good. Maybe he could make something of it.

“Have you performed such a feat before?”

“In Haven. After Corypheus.” She related the tale quickly. Solas ran two fingers down her palm with a contemplative hum.

Cassandra leaned closer to watch. “What does it mean, Solas?”

“Dagna said it was a key…” Kendra shrugged. “Keys open things.”

“And lock them. Though, I doubt this rift closing was of your own volition. Could you feel its pull on you, while you were in range?”

She took a deep breath, memories of the fight dropping into place. The rift had tugged at the dragon, slowing its movements even as it clawed the ground to steady itself against the pull. It tugged at her, as well. Tried to pull apart flesh and bone and leave only the spirit to be wrenched into the Fade. Without the Mark to anchor her, she doubted she could have resisted.

“Sorry. Was a bit too focused on the dragon.”

“I see.” Solas returned her hand. “Well, if you remember.”

“New tricks are good and all,” Bull leaned on the handle of his axe and pointed at the carcas with his thumb. “But what do we do with the _ataashi_?”

Right. _Dragon_.

“Cut her stomach open,” Cassandra turned to the body. “Dragons usually swallow whatever they fancy. It’s likely we’ll find usable armor in there, as well as gold enough to justify coming to the Approach.”

“Let’s do it.”

Dear Maker, dragon intestines _stank_. Could she _harvest_ that somehow? Make a gas to incapacitate enemy soldiers? Not likely. Harvesting alone would be more trouble than it was worth, even if she had a steady supply of dead dragons. She doubted her ability to grow immune to it. The Red Templars probably were, knowing her luck. Bastards.

Absolutely worth it, though. Cassandra was speaking of utilizing Inquisition forces to collect the bones and hide when Kendra pulled out a dagger. “You are _beautiful_.” Dual-bladed and perfectly balanced, the grip hardly any worse for wear despite being part of the contents of a dragon’s stomach. She set the long edge against her glove and pulled. The strands of fabric unraveled at the slightest touch. She couldn’t _wait_ to sharpen it.

They decided it was best to just leave the dragon for the time being—not like anyone was around to loot it—and let the scouts do the work necessary for getting the usable parts of the carcass to Skyhold.

“We should inform Frederic as well.”

“Wonder if he’d come work for us…” Cassandra shot her an incredulous look. “No, really! We’ve got bones and scales now, Maker knows what _half_ of that is worth. Dagna can work with anything you give her, but there’s bound to be _someone_ out there willing to _pay_ to use some of these. We already know there’s another High Dragon in the Hinterlands.” The man had hardly stopped being useful.

“I...see.”

“Inquisitor. I do believe you owe me.”

Damn him.

Kendra placed two silvers in Solas’ hand. Cassandra arched her brow. “Lost a bet,” Kendra explained with a shrug. “Said you were gonna land the killing blow.”

“That hurts, boss.”

“Oh, please,” Kendra waved her arm. “I gave you a _hand_ -icap.”

Cassandra strode away. “Don’t be like that, Seeker!” Bull went after her. “She _hand_ -ed me that victory!”

Solas interrupted Kendra’s laughter. “It has grown. The Mark.” He met her startled gaze steadily. “After the battle, you grabbed your arm. Until now, you’ve held your wrist whenever it pained you.”

Oh. Oh, _shit_.

“It’s _growing_?”

“Spreading might be the better term. The size of the Mark remains the same, but its effects now reach further and you have power enough to open rifts. Use it as you will, but be mindful.”

Yeah.

"Thanks, Solas."

* * *

Kendra brushed down the horse she used out in the field. It was a gift, of sorts, from the Avaar they had sent north. Nothing compared to her mare back at home. Pity she couldn’t be sent to Skyhold—

Why _hadn’t_ she sent for Cloud Dancer to be brought to Skyhold?

Footsteps crunched on the ground by the stables’ entrance. Blackwall, back from the tavern. “There you are. Bull was looking for you.”

Not like him to not just come _find_ her.

“Was he?”

“Celebratory drinks, by the look of it.”

“Thanks, Blackwall.”

The sound of chisel hitting wood soon filled the barn, soft and soothing in the dusk. She finished with the horse, detangling both its tail and mane and arranging a quilt over its back before blowing out the lantern. “Good night.”

“Inquisitor.”

She was still uncertain which way she’d go as she crossed the courtyard. She had been away for a few weeks, they’d only just gotten back from the Western Approach that afternoon. Letters she’d left were composing themselves as she walked. A response for the Duke, well wishes for birthday celebrations in the family, letting Darrell know she wanted her horse...and he was welcome to visit, as well…

She went to the tavern.

Bull was easy to spot. Kendra wove her way through the crowd. Busy, even for the hour. Maryden had found a new song. “Good luck,” Krem cautioned as she walked past.

“What—?”

“ _There_ she is!” The breath was knocked out of her as Bull looped an arm around her waist and dropped her next to him on the bench. “Here, drink this.”

The fumes alone burned her throat. “What _is_ that?”

“ _Maraas-lok_.”

“ _What?_ ”

He pushed the cup closer. “ _Drink_.”

Oh sweet merciful Andraste what sin had she committed to deserve this punishment?

Bull laughed over her hacking cough.

“ _Maker_ , Bull, why am I _drinking_ this?”

“We just killed a _High Dragon_ , boss. We’re _celebrating_.”

“Was it that good for you?” She meant it to come out a joke, but a second swallow and subsequent choking turned it into an accusation. His response was in Qunlat. He’d said it before, when they were fighting the dragon. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the language on the battlefield, but she hadn’t heard that particular phrase. “What’s that, now?”

Masturbation. It meant he was going to masturbate to a _fucking dragon_.

“It was shooting _fire_ at us when you shouted that, Bull.”

The look in his eye was dreamy. “Yeah.” There wasn’t much she could do but drink to that.

It did _not_ go down any easier.

“So,” she ventured, circling the rim of her cup to collect a few drops on a finger. “Don’t suppose you’d be interested in doing that again, should the opportunity present itself?” She placed the finger in her mouth to see if smaller sips would make it better.

Her tongue shriveled.

Bull roared with laughter at the expression on her face. “Shit, yeah! To fighting dragons!”

“To the worst thing I’ve ever tasted!”

They continued drinking. There was more talk of dragons, speculations if dragon blood hadn’t somehow been added to Qunari stock, a complement for her tits, and a few more words in Qunlat she didn’t ask to be translated. Maryden stepped down to leave at last call and most the patrons followed her. Wondering if she should be concerned about the amount of stairs it took to reach her chambers, Kendra stood to go.

Her legs gave out.

“Come on.” Bull pulled her into something resembling a standing position, and helped her to the back of the bar. She needed to be carried up the stairs.

Even if Kendra didn’t remember _how_ she got the Mark, she remembered everything up to it. Bidding farewell to her cousins and nephew as they donned their Templar regalia, admiring the statuary of the temple, and then…

A voice...maybe? _Something_ to draw her attention to whatever it was they’d witnessed during the first attempt to seal the Breach. She remembered that, too, down to the feeling of the Mark drawing away her strength before she’d fainted. Remembered it when an elf—had she _seen_ that elf since?—had been shocked to find her awake.

Likewise, when she woke sprawled half on Bull and half on his bed, she wasn’t confused. Sore, from the way her body had contorted in the night as though there were a knife under Bull’s shoulder the same as her pillow, but not confused. She was still clothed down to her boots. Her fingers hadn’t been nimble enough to take them off without poisoning herself five different times and she certainly wasn’t about to walk him through it.

More concerning was the fact she’d broken one of her rules. She didn’t sleep with the people she fucked. Nothing against Bull, or anyone really, she just didn’t sleep well with others. Besides, she _liked_ the people she fucked. Most of the time. Last thing she wanted to do was interpret something wrong while half asleep and wind up stabbing their kidney for the crime of finding a more comfortable position.

She burrowed closer to Bull’s side with a groan, waiting for the headache.

It didn’t come.

Kendra opened an eye. Bright. Mid-morning. Still no migraine. Mindful of the fact her arm was half asleep, she pulled it out from under Bull to prop herself up and look down at him. Already awake. Ass.

“I should have the world’s _biggest_ hangover right now.”

The grin he gave was far too wide for the time of day. “Told you. _Maraas-lok_.”


	3. “No war, no Inquisition, just you and me, nothing outside this room.”

The best way to spend a lazy day in Skyhold was to doze it away, and the best way to do that was with his face pillowed on the Inquisitor’s lap. The windows to the balcony were thrown open to let in a warm breeze which alone made her bed superior to his room above the tavern. Bull’s arms were wrapped around her hips to give his head a bit of lift. With it, he could _just_ make out the sliver of light between her stomach and the side of his nose when he opened his eye. His face was turned towards the entrance, and that meant relying on his hearing. What he heard was the constant scratch of a quill.

Above him, Kendra reclined on a stack of pillows as she wrote—

_Hm._

No change in her breathing over the last few hours, the quill only pausing when a sound came from outside and resuming when she identified the source. Or between changing sheets of paper, when she flipped through letters on her nightstand to check a correspondence. Family, then. That impossibly large one of hers that required an entire day if she meant to write all of them. Even _he_ didn’t know how many there were. He could easily find out. Red would have learned everything down to how often they trimmed their nails by now, but if Kendra wasn’t offering he wouldn’t pry. She had a _thing_ about family, after all.

Her quill tapped the edge of her writing board. Moved on to letters from potential allies? During and after the elimination process Josephine took care of keeping contact. Anyone lucky enough to get through the scrutiny of the ambassador and spymaster had the honor of their allegiance being decided by Kendra.

Bull would be lying if he said it wasn’t fun seeing her reactions, even if it did mean a bit of jostling. She took far longer writing Inquisition allies despite those letters only taking up half a sheet of parchment, as opposed to the pages and pages she would sometimes take to write just one relation. His shoulders and back would often be used so she could read over everything a hopeful had sent without her moving every two seconds. Once, she grew so frustrated with a draft she'd impaled it on one of his horns.

It wasn’t the case this time. Her writing board landed with a _clack_ on the nightstand and one of her thumbs started rubbing circles at the base of a horn. Bull rumbled his appreciation and squeezed her hips tighter. Kendra's breathing evened, slowed, and Bull was half-asleep when she opened the drawer on the nightstand.

Curiosity, mixed with disapproval when her hand left his scalp, brought him back to wakefulness. A lid popped open.

Container. He raised his head slightly. Not that he could see what it was with his eye against her abdomen. Bull felt no concern. Kendra was adamant in keeping her table of poisons as far from her bed as the room allowed. Except maybe the dagger she slept with, but he left too early in the nights to find out.

Didn’t smell like anything. He contented himself to live and let live until her fingers returned.

Horn balm.

She found him _horn balm_.

Bull's squeeze winded her.

* * *

Why was the Emprise du Lion so _fucking_ cold?

Buried under three blankets, fully dressed, and lying next to the brazier, Kendra suppressed another shiver. They were in _Orlais_. It wasn’t supposed to be _cold_ in _Orlais_. Wasn’t this Ferelden’s specialty? Like the Frostbacks after she—

_ribs still bruised from breaking the support beams, staring down at abandoned embers snow falling too fast for tracks, breath billows green as the Mark_ burns _and the pain makes her find strength in her frozen legs one step two direction chosen at random, eyes glow between the trees a wolf howls_

—no. Focus. Breathe. In and out.

The blankets scratched at her cheeks. Her exposed skin was not numb. Frigid, but she’d take what she could get. She willed her limbs to separate and rolled onto her stomach, hoping the familiar position would lull her to sleep.

No good.

Kendra sat up, pulling the blankets tight around her to form a cocoon. She set her chin on her knees and watched the flickering light cast on the tent by the fire outside. Voices sounded as the scouts changed the guard. Mutters of discontent, hissed responses that _everyone_ was uncomfortable. Silence.

Still freezing.

Giving it up with a sigh, Kendra stood. She set the blankets close to the brazier before she considered letting the coals die. No, best keep them going. A surprise attack from the outside was unlikely with how the Red Templars stood out against the snow, but it was best to make it look like the Inquisitor was in the tent she was meant to be.

She peeked through the tent flaps. Four scouts around the fire, six patrolling out amongst the tents. As usual, they gave the tents of the Inquisitor and her inner circle a wide berth. A _respectful distance_ , Cullen insisted on calling it. Either way, if she was able to slip through that part of camp without anyone noticing, they weren’t alert enough.

None of them spotted her.

_Well done, Commander._

It only occurred to her after she opened the flap to Bull’s tent that being more obvious in her approach and putting _away_ the knife she’d taken from under her covers might have been wise. His eye opened.

“Move.”

He held his blanket aside, tucking it around her back as she curled next to him. He jumped when she pressed her nose to his skin. The man was a _furnace_. It took a moment of restless shifting to arrange herself comfortably. She finally settled with her head propped on his shoulder and both her legs wrapped around one of his. Her body had finally warmed enough to relax. She did so with a sigh.

“Thanks, Bull.”

“Any time, boss.”

With only a few hours left till dawn she didn’t sleep. She didn’t think he did either. Still, it was nice to just lie like this.

* * *

“It’s very cold.”

“Sure is, Cole.”

Bull watched as Kendra tugged the cuffs of her gloves down tight against her arms. She walked around the lookout fire twice, once in each direction, then peered over the ledge of the cliff to watch the Red Templars in the quarry below. Any longer with those scouts and she’d be spinning a dagger.

“The sun makes it warmer. Brighter.”

“Mm.”

“We don’t need the Mark to see you.”

Kendra stopped halfway through another rotation.

“...Thanks.”

She went back to walking.

Tension coiled in the spine above her shoulder blades. Itching to act, stop waiting on the scout reports and deal with problems as they arose. With Sahrnian prisoners working in the mines they would be some _big_ problems.

Bull intercepted another turn to drape an arm across her shoulders. Surprise flickered on her face, then gratitude. She leaned into the embrace.

“Anything yet?”

“Not yet,” Kendra answered as Sera approached.

“ _Phht._ Taking too long. There’s _people_ down there. People that shouldn’t be.” Sera dropped onto the snow. Crazy Fereldans. “Scouts don’t usually take this long. Might be missing.”

Kendra rocked back to study the sky. “We’ll give them half an hour more.”

“Fine. Don’t blame me when you lose ‘em.” Sera looked up at them, and Bull knew what the conversation had switched to. “Right, can I say it then?”

Kendra glanced her way. “Say what?”

Bull really wished she wouldn’t. Cole had done his mind reading thing on their arrangement once, and as it turned out Kendra wasn’t one for discussing it with others. He was enjoying the press of her weight against him, enough so he steeled himself for when Sera’s comment would make her step away. At least Solas wasn’t around this time.

“You two are fucking.”

Kendra laughed, and his heart did a little flop. “Like rabbits.”


	4. Necklace Of The Kadan

Kendra paced the gardens. She’d come for a game of chess with Dorian, but had forfeited their match after a few turns. Restlessness had dodged her heels from the moment she woke. While she might normally pass such a day in the tavern, her usual drinking buddies were busy. Blackwall had taken it upon himself to help Cullen with recruits, Bull was with the Chargers in the Hinterlands, and Sera had found a few friends that had made it to Skyhold.

_“Not Friends friends, just friends. Wanna see what they’ve been up to, yeah?”_

Yeah. And now she was one down against Dorian. Cullen would never let her hear the end of it.

“Do come inside, dear,” Vivienne stood in the doorway to Skyhold’s hall. “The weather’s far too chilly to remain out long.”

That was odd. Not odd that Vivienne would express concern for her. Odd that she would use it to disguise something else. Even if their views didn’t match up, they’d always respected each other with honesty. Odd that she’d be the one to seek Kendra out, too.

Dorian, though, he’d do it. He stood in the hall, out of sight until she was in the door frame. She had to admit: Of all the people in Skyhold she thought to ambush her like this, those two had made it pretty far down the list. “Forget something?”

“One would think. There I am, halfway through the first invasion of Tantervale and when I look outside what do I see? The Inquisitor, apparently having forgotten where _inside_ is.”

“And you brought Vivienne because…?”

“Our dear Dorian was merely concerned for your well-being, darling. I thought you might be the best one to explain to him that leaves changing color in the south is quite normal.”

Kendra gaped at him. “Are you... _mothering_ me?”

“Yes, if you must know.”

“You— I can’t _believe_ — _I take back my forfeit._ ”

“Yes, yes, and a truly devastating loss it is when we had only moved pawns. Now come in and close that door before there’s a draft. I’m sure you’ll find something to keep yourself busy.”

She rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Am I being sent to my _room_?”

“Why do you think I fetched Vivienne?”

That son of a…

She went to the Undercroft. Earlier in the day she’d tried letters and poisons to keep her still. Neither had worked. There was always something going on at the forge. If nothing else, a change of company might do her some good.

“Hey there!” Dagna greeted cheerfully, “Good news. Look what finally made it!”

Kendra dashed to the wall where they lined the dragon skulls. _Lined_ may have been a bit presumptuous. They only had the two. Three, now that the skull of the Northern Hunter had been placed with the others.

“She’s _beautiful_ ,” Kendra breathed.

“Yup! Really motivates you, having them stare you down while you work.” Harritt’s grunt made it clear Dagna was the only one who thought so. “Shame no one else can see them, though. Harritt was saying when they brought her in that they might be put to better use where everyone else can see them.”

Like watching half the Orlesian nobility try not to wet themselves when they entered the judgement hall. _That_ would be worth fighting every damn dragon she found.

“...What if we made one into a throne?”

“ _Ooh_ , I like the way you think! The top of the mouth could be the back. Just set it on its end and you’re good to go.”

They’d need something else for the seat. It would send the wrong message if it looked as though she were sitting _in_ the jaws. “What if we made the throne out of its teeth?”

“Hold on! I want to get this down!”

Kendra walked between the skulls as Dagna scurried for paper. Dragons weren’t very fatty. The bones were just as imposing lying there as they’d been covered in scales and spewing fire. She moved along the back of the Abyssal High Dragon, running a hand along its horns. Cole was right. They _did_ look like Bull’s.

She knelt at its side. Its teeth were unlike any she’d seen. Sharp with only the slightest bit of curve, as short as her pinky and as large as her arm. Maker, she _fought_ that. Kendra counted down the rows of teeth. On the opposite side, she found it. As long as the length of her hand and wide enough to fit her palm. She gave an experimental tug to see if it was loose.

“Want to use that one?”

“ _No!_ No, uh…the horns would be facing the wrong way. They should be pointed at the entrance.”

“Perfect!” Dagna cackled. “Let’s talk about how these bones should look, and we’ll see which one you like.”

Of the three they had, it would have to be the Northern Hunter. The horns of the Ferelden Frostback were too long for any semblance of practicality. It _would_ look pretty neat, the horns curled up to frame her seat. The throne itself couldn’t be made entirely out of teeth. Instead they would have to form the frame.

“What if we used the hide as the upholstery?”

“Do it.”

After several hours, Kendra had the perfect throne.

“We can’t make it a priority...” Unfortunate, but saving the world probably came before furniture. “...but we’ll start on it as soon as we can.”

Before she left, she pulled the tooth of the Abyssal free. She hefted it in her palm on the climb to her chambers. Nice weight. Sturdy. Easy to catch when she tossed it a couple times. Of course, it would be different once split in ha—

What was she _doing_?

* * *

Kendra returned the Undercroft over the following days. Most of her reasons were actual Inquisition business. Like which runes she could add to her weapons now that she managed to keep her clothes from burning when they lit on fire. In the end she dropped the pretense and asked Dagna to help her make the necklace.

“Obsidian. Ooh, and we can add details!”

“I need them to be equal halves.”

“Easy!”

She sprawled across her bed that night, mind buzzing. Bull had dropped a comment _once_ about an old tradition and here she was scrambling to meet it. Just how ancient was this practice, anyway? Dragons hadn’t been back for fifty years yet. The Qun didn’t even have notions of love. If anything it would be a connection between lifelong friends, soldiers who fought better together than with anyone else. Maker’s ass what was the _point_ of luring in—

This was why she had lured a High Dragon.

She’d been fucking him for less than a _month_ and she killed a dragon for him to make a necklace.

Qunari didn’t do love.

_He’s Tal-Vashoth._

Damn it.

When the necklace was finished, she did the mature thing and hid it under the bed.

* * *

As it happened, a few things made her decide that giving him the damn thing might not be so bad. Said things being the Orlesian Wardens nearly succumbing to Corypheus, falling into the _fucking_ Fade (much to _someone’s_ delight), a _twenty foot tall_ fucking _spider_ , discovering it was as cathartic for her to hit something as it was for Bull to get hit, and waking in a cold sweat so many nights in a row it made her reconsider her stance on amnesia.

Really, the only good thing to come of the entire fiasco was that now she had proof Andraste wasn’t involved in saving her life.

And the Grey Warden allies. That too.

Even so, she was shocked when Crestwood’s Mayor thanked her for enlisting him.

“He said he was _honored_ ,” Kendra answered Leliana’s inquiry.

“Ah. The Fifth Blight was not so long ago. Fereldans still view the Wardens as heroes. When she was rebuilding the order, the Hero of Ferelden was able to fill the ranks based on the reputation of two Wardens alone. It is a shame she was not at Adamant.”

“You’re sure?”

“The Fereldan Queen in Orlais? We would have heard of it before you went.”

Fair enough.

She took the necklace with her to the tavern that night. Not with the express intent to give it to Bull, but rather to see if things _felt_ differently with it so nearby.

Trust Cullen to walk in on them. _Again._

Josephine and Cassandra were a surprise.

“Ahem.” All three turned their eyes on her. Cullen hid his face behind his report. He shot a couple glances around it, as though trying to maintain a sense of propriety while he wiped what he was seeing from his memory. Forgetting was overrated. “Can I _help_ you?”

“It can wait!”

“It most certainly cannot.” Kendra arched her brow as Cullen made _shh_ -ing motions at Cassandra. This should be good.

It was, in a way. Somehow despite their lack of subtlety Cassandra had never cottoned on. It only worried her what important things may have slipped the Seeker’s notice. Her being a _Seeker_ and all.

“Is there a problem?”

“No.” Cullen kept his face completely covered to avoid looking at her.

“ _Is_ there something I can help you with?”

“No!”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

“Farewell, Inquisitor.”

Kendra stuck her tongue out at the closed door.

“You alright, boss?”

For once, she took a moment to consider her answer. No worry about who they might run off to tell. Some indignation at having her tits out, but growing up with eight siblings taught her to get over _that_. She flashed him a grin. “I am, actually.” The speed at which the next words tumbled out of her mouth made any self-reflection she’d done meaningless. “Have something for you, though.”

Why not?

She bent down and opened the box. Her explanation died on her lips when she saw his expression.

Oh shit.

There was no talking her way out of the fact she _made_ the necklaces, but she could change what she meant to do with them. She had it half out that she was giving both pieces to him and one was for him to give to whomever when he interrupted. At the first syllable she knew she had fucked up. She _had_ misinterpreted their closeness. So _what_ if she was able to relax around him enough to silence the part of her brain that always whispered of treachery? Nearly all of their activities she did with Sera, minus the sex. And the sleeping in the same bed and having someone there to hold her when the nightmares were too much and _oh Maker she was about to lose it_ damn it _why didn’t she ever_ think _Qunari_ don’t do love—

He didn’t say their watchword.

“ _Kadan_.”

“...What?”

Bull had called her that before. Once after killing the Frostback and during the worst-tasting round of drinks she’d had in her life. Most recently when she'd been poisoned during a wyvern fight and he carried her back to camp with a stream of words to keep her conscious. A few inconsequential times between then. She never thought to have it translated.

It meant heart. _His_ heart.

His lips were soft on hers as he looped the necklaces around their necks.

She was awake when he fell asleep. Kendra lifted herself slowly, inching over to lay her head on his chest. His pulse was beneath her ear. Strong. Steady. Familiar. Refuge in and from a world that was determined to tear itself apart. _Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum_.

_Kadan_.

Yeah.

She could be that.


	5. Wicked Eyes And Wicked Hearts

Kendra had been wrapped in a frenzy of energy for the past two months. Josephine dropped questions about families, political ties, etiquette, popular dances, and the proper meaning behind the smallest of gestures whenever they crossed paths. Leliana only spoke Orlesian when with her, and between these she was discussing contingencies and strategy with Cullen.

“I’ll keep an extra half eye on you, yeah? Don’t want you being too nobby.”

“I may not have a choice, Sera.”

“See, there’s _being_ then there’s _acting_. You saying things to faces is part of a job. Little people getting hurt isn’t.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

When she swept through the gates of the Winter Palace, it was as the Inquisitor.

Bull watched with keen interest as she was introduced to the court. This was a first. In battle or negotiations, in those speeches she made when securing a position for the Inquisition, she was always Kendra. Quick with a knife to back her words and a part of her always fidgeting. None of that was present. Gone too was the coil of tension carried between her shoulders that told him what it was she needed to drop the weight of responsibility. Instead she drew power from the air around her and exuded command right back out. The Inquisitor straight to her bones instead of a person.

She was acting downright Qunari.

Even speaking to them, she was different. “I’ll check in with you when I can. In the meantime—”

“Inquisitor Trevelyan?”

As surely and completely the mask of Inquisitor had risen into place it fell right back off. One of the brightest grins Bull had ever seen lit her face as she spun on her heel. In all the time he’d known her, she never went straight to touching someone. No matter how often she dropped beside or onto him in the tavern he got a quick “hello” first. Even handshakes with visiting nobles waited until after the introductions, though granted that was because she was eyeing them for concealed weaponry.

She launched herself straight into this man’s arms.

Their embrace lasted for less than a second before they were distanced, the man pressing lips to her knuckles. Kendra stepped, hands still clasped, to stand at his side.

Well damn.

He stood a few inches taller than her, broader in the chest and shoulders but with the same confidence in the way he carried himself. Their skin was an identical warm tawny shade and their noses had similar bumps, though his had been broken sometime in the past. His hair was brown, and instead of prominent cheekbones he had stubble. Her eyes were a lighter shade of green than his, and his tattoo complimented hers in a mismatched way: dotted and under the opposite eye of her spiked one.

About time he met another one of them.

“Everyone, this is Darrell. My brother.”

Vivienne stepped forward for the first of a round of introductions so quick he could only be putting faces to names. His habit of kissing hands was an ingrained one, as he did it to any who offered theirs. Bull got a closer look-over than the rest of them. He doubted it was because of the horns.

“Charmed.” The grin _had_ to be a family thing.

“I did not expect another member of the Inquisitor’s family to be here.” Josephine sounded convinced she’d just lost her place as ambassador. “If I had known, I…”

“It’s quite alright. One of our aunts is here.” Kendra’s pupils dilated. “I’m merely here to accompany her.” His eyes shifted to meet Kendra’s. The aunt was to be kept busy.

Kendra adjusted her stance, and she was the Inquisitor once more. “Enjoy the party, everyone. I expect a dance before the evening is done.”

Darrell offered his arm. “I’m here when you need me.”

“So,” Varric said once the two had left. “Any bets on who’s older?” Leliana laughed. She knew.

* * *

The first signal came in a few hours. By then, all talk in the palace was of the Inquisitor. She had made a place for herself among the nobles with far more ease than she did any of the soldiers. It was concerning to watch.

“You’re still you in there, yeah?” Sera asked as they distributed the catch of weapons Leliana’s people had left. “Cause if they change your mind about the pies, your face is gonna be first.”

“Don’t pay her any mind, dear. You’ve taken to the Game quite well.”

Bull was comforted by the fact Kendra had to remove a few hidden daggers to replace them with her usual ones. “With luck that will make the rest of the night easier.”

He never expected to use the word _tinkling_ to describe Viv’s laugh. “Darling, of course it will!”

The night picked up after a good fight. Kendra took a knife as a victory trophy from the body of one of the checkered guards Orlesian nobles hired. A new favorite, from the way she handled it before sheathing it in her belt. Even Sera’s mood cheered when Kendra stopped to notice something the Red Jennies had left. Pity they didn’t stay longer in the gardens.

“It seems the Inquisitor is enjoying herself,” Solas rolled the wine around in his glass.

Varric chortled. “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself too, Chuckles.”

“I merely wonder how her actions and their outcomes will shape the days ahead. Oh.”

The Inquisitor appeared on the other side of the hall. She walked towards them, exchanging words with everyone she passed along the way. Solas stayed long enough to return her greeting before he left. Kendra leaned against the table. She _was_ Kendra now. Her shoulders drooped, and the Inquisitor wouldn’t have allowed herself to sigh.

“Anything interesting happen while I was busy?”

“I think so,” Varric grinned. “Couldn’t tell what you were saying when I saw you dancing with the Grand Duchess. Fill in a few blanks, and I can make the story as interesting as you like.”

“I think they’d be more interesting if _you_ filled them, Varric.”

“Alright. Just don’t blame me when it turns out _you’re_ the one here to assassinate Celene.”

“My evening would be _much_ easier if that was the case.” Darrell appeared at her shoulder. “I found the Dowager. She’s in the eastern wing. If you go now, you can still catch her mourning her seventh.”

“I wonder if she’d accept a dance from you instead. Think her eyesight’s gone bad?”

“I’d be more concerned about her _hearing_ —”

“ _Mariah Trevelyan!_ ”

Both siblings jumped. Bull expected a knife in Kendra’s hand before she recovered from the shock. At the very least, a muttered “oh no”. What he got was the jerk of their shoulders flowing into a perfect upright posture. A smile so pleasant it was nauseating landed on their faces. Marionettes pulled by a string to turn and bow to the approaching woman. When she had bowed to the empress, Kendra's eyes had been watching. Analyzing. Finding the weakness in the ruler of Orlais. Now they were closed, her face so politely neutral Josephine would sing.

“Duchess. My apologies for not seeking you immediately.”

The Inquisitor stood, turning back to hold out an arm to the new arrival. Her eyes were blank. “My lords, allow me to introduce Duchess Kendra Trevelyan née Cheval. Our great-aunt and current head of the Orlesian branch of the family.”

She wasn’t serious.

She _couldn’t_ be.

The Duchess gave them a piercing look from behind a fan. Either she _wanted_ him to see the curl of her lip, or she wasn’t used to hiding her tells from someone his size. “I understand if you and your...companions are busy, Mariah, but you have been here for…” the bells of the great clock in the courtyard tolled, “five hours. Surely you could not have missed our presence.”

“My apologies, Duchess. I hoped to be done with business early and spend the rest of the evening in your company. It had not occurred to me to give you a greeting before I began.”

“Pardon me, Duchess?” Darrell received a nod. “I am not sure if you overheard, but my sister and I have been looking for the Dowager. We found her in the East Wing. If you would allow me to escort you…?”

“Yes… We should not _all_ ignore our graces this evening. I _will_ speak with you later, Mariah.”

“Yes, Duchess. I look forward to it.” Kendra gave another bow as they left.

Varric broke the uneasy silence. “So… Your name is Mariah.”

Kendra whirled on him, eyes blazing. “My _middle_ name is Mariah, and _so help me_ dwarf if it gets out I will _put you back in the Fade with Stroud_.”

“Threat acknowledged,” Varric muttered. “Any, uh, _particular_ reason she calls you that?”

“...She was born first.”

Varric shook his head. “And here I thought _Kirkwall_ politics were messy.”

“Just find me an assassin.”

“As you wish, your Inquisitoralness.”

Bull waited until he was out of earshot. “Age gets her a name?”

“It _shouldn’t_.” Kendra kicked a table leg. “Problem is there’s only so many names in the family, and everyone gets named after someone else. If you’re around each other a lot and you’re not the first one you get a nickname.” Made sense. “Anyone married _into_ the family gets called by their last name instead. We never even met until I was _eight_. _I’m_ Kendra.” Her voice broke, turning the statement into a plea. Someone with her pride and sense of self, it would mess anyone up. It would be worse doing it to a kid.

With the Duchess gone the string holding her together snapped. She held herself like she expected to fall out of her skin, curled her shoulders to keep herself in.

It took every ounce of self control not to gather her in his arms and take her somewhere safe.

“Try these,” he said instead. She needed a distraction, and she’d like them. Almost tasted like the cinnamon she put on everything. “Spiced nuts.” Her gaze turned skeptical as she popped one in her mouth. _There_ she was, back with a giggle when the flavor hit.

“ _Shit_ , that’s good.” She leaned back against the table and kept eating. After a few handfuls she declared, “We should dance.”

Bull boomed with laughter. Josephine would have a _fit_. Imagine her trying to explain the Inquisitor was with—

She meant it. And was expecting a response.

“Yeah.” Her eyes lit up. “ _Shit_ , yeah!”

The bells chimed the half hour.

Kendra’s grin was shining through the guise of Inquisitor. “Give me a rain check? I just figured out how we’re getting in the Royal Wing.”

* * *

As far as traps went...they’d walked into worse. In fairness, he doubted most contingency plans these days took into consideration someone being able to tear open a rift. He was more surprised Darrell was armed and waiting with the advisors when they reentered the ballroom.

“What—”

“No time, Cullen. Detain the Grand Duchess.”

“The _Grand Duch_ —”

“Leliana, I want everyone in position.”’

Darrell fell in with his sister’s steps as she strode across the ballroom and chased Florianne into the night.

Kendra’s entire fighting style made sense, now. Every shift in weight, every lash of a blade was tailored to being back-to-back with Darrell. He would catch blows aimed for her on the flat of his greatsword, and she would come knives ready and whirling around his frame. Bull had assumed she ducked as low as she did to give herself ample space between her neck and his axe. Really, she was at the perfect height to leave mere inches between Darrell’s sword and her scalp. The shorter distance halved the time it took for her to spring back to her feet and start stabbing.

In the end, that was how they killed the Grand Duchess.

“I get her bow!” Sera cried.

Still the night was not done. Bull watched Kendra address the court, standing above the nobles and entirely in her element. It worried him she wasn’t speaking as the Inquisitor.

“Well played, darling,” Vivienne praised just loud enough to be heard.

“Stretched beneath her, gold and glittering. Game pieces on a board awaiting her move.”

Solas looked at Cole. “Which game would that be?”

“Chess. Celene is the king. Gaspard became a pawn when he invited her.”

“Does she view herself the queen?”

“No. That’s Briala. Sometimes the queen is a horse.”

“Is she a knight as well?”

“She’s playing. Pieces can’t play.”

* * *

Kendra was on top of the world. One twitch of her finger and everything fell into place. Seasoned the nobles of Orlais may be, nothing prepared one for the Grand Game quite like waking up declared a symbol of the Chantry. Between Celene owing her both throne and life and allying the nation’s Wardens with the Inquisition, she could crush all of Orlais beneath her heel. If she leapt off the balcony now, she would _fly_.

Probably best not to test that theory.

“You’re enjoying yourself.”

“How dare you.” The barb was as teasing as her twin’s accusation.

Darrell joined her on the railing, leaning his hip against it rather than sitting on it as she did. “If I knew you were coming to stop an assassin, I would have come prepared.”

“I figured you’d have a hard enough time swallowing that I’d been to the future.”

He chuckled. “Believe me, I did. ...Can I see?” Kendra gripped her elbow, where the pain of the Mark had spread. She removed her glove and held out her hand. The green light reflected eerily off his skin, and she suddenly remembered that unlike her he was _very_ devout.

“Please tell me you don’t think I’m Chosen.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “I know you. If you say you weren’t, then you aren’t.”

Thank the Maker.

They sat in silence, the chirping of crickets mingling with the laughter of the court. “I’m surprised Aldrich isn’t here.”

“I invited him,” Kendra shrugged. “Said he’d rather stay and be of use in the library.”

“What _did_ that Circle do to him?”

Another moment of silence passed. “So...what do you think of them?”

“I think they’re loyal. You’ve gathered a good group.”

“The best.”

“...Don’t shoot the messenger, but Cheval came because she wanted to see about... She called them _rumors_.”

Of course she did. Cunt.

“What do you think?”

Darrell held his hands in front of his chest. “I refuse to judge a man I have only met once outside our usual spheres of life.”

“When did _you_ become such a politician?”

“Tonight. Really though,” his grin was playful, but his tone sincere, “looks like you have a decent thing going.”

She crossed her arms to feel the shift of the dragon’s tooth against her chest. “Glad you approve.”

_I hope so._

“You could have done worse.”

_You do._

Duchess Cheval’s shadow crossed the balcony. They shrank back from the light. “I’ll keep her away from you. Though, head back to that ballroom and every noble in Orlais will do the job for me.”

_That_ was unexpected. “And where would you be off to?”

“Away from her, for one.”

Kendra narrowed her eyes. Tilted forward. Grinned.

“You _know_ , you were _awfully_ chummy with Dorian earlier.”

“Which was he?” His voice was too high.

Her grin grew. “The one you practically tripped over yourself to greet. Tall, dark, handsome. Would you like me to give you tips on how he flirts?”

Darrell backed away. “I’m...going to find the Duchess.”

“He’s into men, you know.”

“I’m going to find the Duchess!”

He turned back after entering the ballroom. “Mother wants Aldrich to come for a visit. To stay, really. She'll take a visit.”

“Sure. Give my regards to Liesl.”

“ _Just_ Liesl?”

“Give my extra regards to Liesl.”

He left. Came back again. “Cheval’s going to ask. What _did_ you tell the Grand Duchess?”

She thought back to the dance. Two spiders, spinning the same web, looking to entangle the other and come out the victor. Irritation because of _course_ there was a dip why _wouldn’t_ she have to support a dip? A question.

_“Who in the court can be trusted?”_

Kendra grinned. “The truth.”

She adjusted her seat on the banister. Her head tilted back, eyes closed, to sink back into that headspace. Weaving, playing. _Flying_.

“Hey, boss.”

It was like the world was _trying_ to make up for the Herald shit.

She wrapped her arms around Bull's neck and drew him to her by the base of his horns. Her pulse jumped beneath her skin. She wanted this feeling of invincibility to last, and nothing would make that happen like his hands and voice guiding her on a path straight to the brightest place in existence.

The bell chimed.

“Am I still good for that dance?”

The grin he gave her was as wicked as if she'd just stripped bare in front of him.

She could not have asked for a better end to the night than spinning Celene around her fingers. Turned out there was such a thing, and it was flaunting the fact The Iron _Fucking_ Bull was her lover. She lost sense of time and space, laughing every time she tripped over her own feet just to feel him catch her. The look on Duchess Cheval’s face was _priceless_. Josephine’s equally so, but she’d have to apologize to that one.

* * *

“What are these?” Kendra leaned warily away from the crate of letters Josephine and Leliana set on the table. Cullen leaned forward.

“They were sent from your home in Ostwick, along with a message from your father.”

“...Okay.”

Josephine cleared her throat. “He sends these to you with full confidence you will handle them with your usual sense of...tact.”

"And _they_ are...?"

Leliana tapped one of the top envelopes. “Marriage proposals.”

“ _What?_ "

“Most of them are from Orlais. Though some are from families in the Free Marches, as well.”

Kendra glanced from the letters to Leliana. “I only want the good ones.”

“Of course, Inquisitor.”

The good ones were shared with everyone present at their games of Wicked Grace. Read aloud in turns, and often with dramatic flourishes. _Excellent_ ones Kendra went through meticulously with Leliana and Josephine for every bit of leverage the Inquisition could get.

Despite the mountains upon mountains of rejections she sent, they kept coming.

“I change my mind about politics."

“Got some bad news about your job, boss.”


	6. Post Inquisition

Kendra sat in the rotunda beneath the library, on the couch still pulled back from the wall where Solas’ final mural sat unfinished. The Guardian of Mythal, bowing to her. She had interrupted its progress to ask what she could expect from Corypheus. Solas guessed he would lash out after she had stolen the power of the Well from his grasp, and lashed out he had. The sky had burned and the Mark had flared to her bicep. During the following battle she had a fleeting thought, _why had she never tried to use the_ orb? Because, while it amplified the magic of the Mark enough to open a rift _in_ Corypheus, the power that coalesced would either shatter her or the artifact. She refused to break.

That was two months ago, and still Solas had not returned.

_“No matter what comes, I want you to know you shall always have my respect.”_

The inside of her cheek was raw from worrying during her internal struggle of instinct and the trust she had come to place in her circle. Even Blackwall—or Rainier, they still hadn’t figured out the name thing—had been welcomed back with a full pardon. Eventually. After a tense probation.

Kendra sighed, stood, and got to work. It had been two months. If he returned, she would help him set it right. She pushed the couch back against the wall, gathered the papers scattered on the desk and set them in a pile at the center. The books she took upstairs and filed away with Dorian’s help. After some deliberation she took the shard to Josephine’s office. Give visiting dignitaries something shiny to look at.

Moving Solas’ things around was the highlight of the next few weeks. With the world saved and getting itself back in order, things were _boring_. She and Bull had been invited home to Ostwick, and without the threat an ancient darkspawn Magister breathing down her neck she didn’t have anything to distract from _how much_ she missed the Marches. Josephine and Leliana, Cullen rather as Leliana would soon be off to Orlais to be ordained, could keep things running without her. The Inquisition had been founded to discover the truth behind the death of Divine Justinia. Kendra had become Inquisitor to defeat Corypheus. Aside from relief efforts, the Inquisition was no longer needed.

“Power connected to the name, not the title,” Cole muttered as they strolled the gardens. “We can still help.”

“Come visit Kirkwall!” Varric threw down a winning pair in a game of Diamondback. “Keep your gloves on and no one will recognize you. Be a _person_!”

“From what I’ve seen so far, your family’s a mess.” Bull’s head rose from her lap with a grin after she read her mother’s letter aloud. “I _have_ to know if that goes for all of them.”

It did, but she didn’t need to tell him that until _after_ a tour of the Free Marches.

When the Exalted Council was summoned, she still didn’t know what to do with the Inquisition. It was almost a relief when the Qunari attacked. Almost.

Kendra gripped her upper arm, pain fading down and through her fingers. She needed to stand. Move. The Eluvian in front of her was out of the question, but the one she’d come from would be neutral ground for a while more. After that… Who knew? Elves? Wolves? Followers of the Viddasala? In a few moments the Crossroads would be closed to her.

Gathering herself, she tried to rise. Once. Twice. Managed it on the third.

She wobbled a few times. She’d underestimated just _how much_ energy it took to keep the Mark under control. Had it felt like this before the Conclave? It was sore, but her fingers curled when she willed them to.

Cole caught her when she stumbled out of the mirror. “The damn path closed the minute you passed through it. What happened?” Dorian demanded. They had made a bet some years ago after relocating to Skyhold, a gold piece for which of them could get Solas to reveal his age first. Most of their attempts lacked any pretense of subtlety.

“We were _so wrong_ about how old Solas is.”

Cole helped her to the ground as Dorian fussed over her. Her legs had gotten her to her goal and now refused to work. Bull lifted her in his arms for the trek back to Val Royeaux.

“What happened?” Dorian asked again.

“I can tell them.”

“Please.” Kendra curled towards Bull’s shoulder as Cole spoke. She wanted to stay alert for the possibility of another attack, _and_ the fact Cole would have known Solas was the Dread Wolf from the moment he joined the Inquisition, but a much bigger part of her just wanted to be _done_. It was also proving very hard to focus with Bull’s heart beneath her ear. Before Cole was finished she had fallen asleep.

“So that’s the plan, then?” whispered Dorian, “Kill Solas?”

“No. Solas is her friend. She wants to help.”

* * *

“Are you serious?”

“The Exalted Council still expects an answer, my lady,” Josephine almost frowned, Kendra’s one sign she was not alone in her sentiments.

“They can’t wait _two hours_ for a healer to look at this?”

“We have delayed them as long as we can,” Leliana explained. “But they have only been told that you have had a bad turn of health. With you appearing to be in such fine condition…”

Cullen entered, shuffling a stack papers under his arm. “Sorry for the delay.”

“Where have _you_ been?”

“Deploying the Wardens. There’s trouble out of a dwarven settlement in the Deep Roads.”

“Darkspawn?” Kendra asked.

“We don’t know. We only received word of dwarves fleeing to the surface.”

Kendra’s head perked in interest. “So it could be anything?”

Cullen sensed the danger. “Not anything! We sent the Wardens in case of darkspawn, but—!”

“Inquisitor,” Leliana cautioned, “the Exalted Council can only wait so long. Orlesians are used to such affairs taking a few days to start, but the delegates from Ferelden—”

“Can wait,” Kendra decided.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan—!” Josephine tried. Kendra was already out the door.

She caught up with the Wardens while they were still in sight of the city.

“It’s a few hours’ ride,” one explained. “The report arrived on foot, so it’s already been a few days. Might be a clean-up instead of a rescue. Especially if ‘spawn are involved.”

“Good stuff to find if it’s a clean-up, though,” another commented.

An hour into the march she asked, “What will you do after the Council?”

“Depends on what you decide, my lady,” a burly woman with a mop of blonde hair answered. “If the Inquisition stays, we’ll still be at your disposal. If it doesn’t,” she shrugged, “there’s still towns that need rebuilding. Families reuniting. We’ll keep busy. I don’t much fancy going back to the way things were, what with so many people needing our help. It’s good to be making a difference even without the Blights.”

“I thought the Wardens kept themselves separate from politics?”

One behind her laughed. “The Fereldan Wardens haven’t been separate from politics since the two remaining ones took the throne. It’s helped Ferelden far more than hindered it these past years.”

Kendra looked over her shoulder. “ _...Dedrick?_ ”

“The same.”

She hardly recognized him. He looked _better_ than he had as Mayor, despite the lines of age and sun on his face. Amazing what honest work and honest living could do for a man. “When Queen Lanni, Maker bless her, rebuilt the Wardens, she also rebuilt the army of Amaranthine. Practically hand-picked them all herself. Stories out of there the first few months after the Blight, it’s no wonder the entire Arling loves her. One word from her and they’d pick Ferelden up and move it if they had to.”

How had she _still_ not met the Warden?

When they reached the settlement, three things became clear very quickly. First and most important, there were still dwarves in the Deep Roads. Second, it was not darkspawn they would be facing. Third, it was giant spiders.

Of _course_ it was giant spiders.

Giant, taller-than-Bull spiders and _sweet Maker why had she come?_

She fell back with the teams that searched the rooms for survivors _after_ the arachnids were taken care of. A dwarf cried out to them, “I think there’s more in here!” Kendra threw open the door before she had a chance to think: more _survivors_ or more _spiders_?

Survivors.

A group of seven or eight, all younger than twenty.

“Out the passage!” She grabbed the two youngest and kept them out of the way as the rest trampled from the room. “Here,” she shouted to the dwarf that had flagged her down, “take them and—”

A spider dropped into the middle of the floor. Kendra whirled, two blades thrown and another two in her hands before one of the children finished screaming. It shuddered as one of the runes activated. Flames burst to life along the spider’s body and the horrid smell of burning hair and flesh filled the tunnel. Kendra pulled a strip of cloth from around her neck and tugged it over her nose and mouth. “Keep to the ground!” she shouted and went for her daggers. One came out easy, the other she had to set her foot to the beast’s eyes and _pull_. The spider _screamed_ , and holding two daggers in both hands she set the blades and ripped out from the middle of its face.

“Inquisitor!” a Warden grabbed her shoulder. “Inquisitor, there’s too many of them! We need to go _now_!”

There wasn’t much for it. Kendra turned and ran.

All in all, they managed to save about fifty dwarves. Plus the few that had managed to escape before the tunnels became infested, which put them at about seventy. Most supplies and people had already been grouped together. “There’s a surfacer village a few miles from here,” one dwarf explained. “Anyone smart enough to get out of the tunnels will know to go there. We may not get the warmest welcome, but our trade brings in enough gold that they’ll let us reorder ourselves.”

“Inquisitor, you’re on fire.”

“Huh? Oh.” A patch of her coat was still smoldering. She put it out with a pat.

While the Wardens worked on a way to keep the infestation underground, Kendra helped the dwarves load everything onto carts.

“Hold on,” Kendra said once the dwarves had declared everything as ready as it could be, “who’s taking them?” The two children she had pulled aside in the fight weren’t yet seen to.

A round of uneasy shifting circled through the dwarves.

“You might not have noticed,” one of the adults explained in a low tone, “the brand doesn’t show well on their skin. They’re _casteless_ ,” he answered Kendra’s blank look.

“So?”

“They _don’t exist_.”

“...They’re standing _right there_.”

“Aye. But, none of the other casteless made it out. They’re free to follow, if they wish, but if they can’t keep up…”

“You’re serious.” The dwarf looked as though that should have been obvious. “You’re _fucking_ serious?” Pushing him out of the way, Kendra knelt by the two children. Up close, she could see what must be the brand. A tattoo that resembled an exaggerated S, black and hard to see against their dark skin.

The _fuck_ was wrong with dwarves?

“What are your names?”

“Barta,” one said in a small voice. She squeezed the other’s hand. “Reta.”

“How old are you?”

“...Four.” Maker.

“Is your sister the same age?”

“Yes.”

A muttering rose up behind them. Barta shifted guiltily. “It’s okay. We’re fast. We c'n keep up.”

“Seems like it wouldn’t be much fun following them.”

Reta removed her hand from Barta’s grip and signed. The girl was deaf? Damn, Kendra didn’t know this language. “What did she say?”

“We’re used to it.”

Fuck that.

“If you want, you can come with us,” Kendra pointed with her thumb to a cart where a couple of Wardens sat. “Plenty of room.”

Both their eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yup.”

Reta signed something else.

“Sorry, I don’t… Can you teach me?”

Barta repeated the sign. “‘Thank you!'”

* * *

Kendra was mobbed by her advisors when she and the Wardens returned that night.

“If it was darkspawn—”

“—half the city in an uproar—”

“—about to send soldiers out looking for you—”

“—if it got out you _left_ —”

“—what are those?”

“Kids,” Kendra told Leliana after handing Cloud Dancer’s reins to a stable girl. She shook them awake long enough to scoop one up in each arm. “Dwarves didn’t want them. _Assholes_.”

Josephine looked scandalized. “ _Inquisitor!_ ”

Leliana sighed. “Leave it be, Josie. They are considered casteless, no?” Right. Leliana had been to Orzammar. “Though, from what I recall, all the dwarves who survived the attack are now considered casteless as well, for going to the surface.”

What was _wrong_ with dwarves?

Cullen shook his head. “Everyone’s been up waiting for you. Now that you’re back we’ll…” he glanced at the clock in the square. “Resume tomorrow morning, I expect.”

“Yes. We shall finally have these negotiations underway,” Josephine bustled off.

Most of her circle were awake, as well.

“Finally!” Dorian headed for the stairs as soon as he saw her. “Do tell me what happened in the morning, will you?”

Rainier grunted, throwing cards on the table between him and Varric. “Cassandra’s been in a state. I’ll let her know you’ve returned.”

“It’s not good form to storm off like that if your hand’s bad, Hero!”

Bull glanced quizzically at the twins in her arms.

“We’re parents now.”

“Okay.”

Bless him.

“They can use my bed, yeah?” Sera offered. “Now you’re back, there’s Friends.”

Kendra laid them on the mattress, needing to detangle Reta’s fist from her hair once she did so. She stood back and realized how _small_ they were, gravitating towards each other in the middle of the bed, in _Val Royeaux_ …

Cole appeared in the doorway. “Breath in the darkness, refuse to be separated. Scared but together. I’ll watch them.”

That was _almost_ enough.

“Come get me if they wake up.”

“Yes.”

Better.

“So,” Bull asked when she returned to the foyer, “what’s the plan for them?”

She hadn’t thought about it beyond _take them back to Val Royeaux_. “Someone’s bound to adopt them,” she rolled her head back on the couch. “I’m sure Leliana knows _somebody_ who’s been wanting a couple kids. Varric might be able to ask around, so long as my name’s kept out of it.” Anyone only willing to take them in to score favor from the Inquisitor was the kind of person to be kept far away.

“Turning in?”

“Nah,” Kendra waved him ahead. “Gonna enjoy the quiet.”

She almost dozed off twice before a twinge in her shoulder made her fully alert. She rubbed at her neck, twisting it to pop the joints. Had she pulled it during the fight?

_magic pulling at her bones flesh tears away but he is not Corypheus the magic is his the tug for the Mark alone, her arm throbs when a weight is taken an ache sets in the absence deeper than even a god can heal_

Kendra yanked her glove off. The veins stood out, her palm shining like a burn scar where the Mark used to be. Her hand and arm responded to her commands when she picked up a couple darts and threw them at the board.

She was fine.

_You’re fine._

“I’m fine.”

Kendra managed to squeeze another week of waiting from the Exalted Council. She was kept busy with the twins, learning the signs they used and gearing them for survival outside the Deep Roads. The _worst_ of it was bypassing Vivienne to find them a tailor who excelled in Marcher clothing. She saw the outfits Orlesians made their children dress in. She wasn’t _cruel_.

She awoke one morning in the grey light before dawn. It took her a moment of confused blinking to figure out why she was on her back. A testing stretch, and she became aware of blood on the sheets and pangs from her abdomen. Her period, then. Except…

No.

Not that.

For a handful of years, since before the Conclave, she’d been taking a tea to stop her periods and keep her decidedly not-pregnant. So why…?

She rolled to the side, and her shirt peeled away from the sheets.

What the—? Kendra touched her shoulder, and pain exploded down the length of her arm. Muffling a cry she lurched up, reached for her lap where her hand...her hand...

Andraste’s mercy, her _hand_.

Flesh sagged off the bone. Veins hung down like so many strings, black and purple and pulsing with each thud of her heart. She had a brief, hysterical thought of _maybe it still works_ , and a tendon twitched. The skin on her wrist started to droop.

“What the _fuck_?”

Bull was up.

* * *

The healers arrived before Kendra’s shock wore off. She agreed to their directions, let them cut the shirt away from her skin and examine the ravaged flesh of her shoulder. They tested the feel of the rest of her arm, and she merely nodded when they explained how some of the upper portion might still be saved. She remained docile until one of them ordered her to drink a suppressant.

“No.”

The healer blinked owlishly. “Young lady,” Bull winced in sympathy at the stubborn light it kindled in Kendra’s eyes, “we gain nothing by postponing the inevitable. This will dull any pain you are currently experiencing, as well as during the proce—”

“ _No._ ” Firmer this time as she came back to herself.

“She doesn’t know you, doc,” Bull explained. She _might_ trust him not to kill her, but anything that involved dulling her senses or knocking her out for the operation? Might as well save Kendra the trouble and stab himself in the chest.

“Very well!” he snapped. “Agatha, get her a cloth to bite. Bertrand, we’ll need you to pin her legs.” A young man came forward. He looked more accustomed to life in a butcher’s shop than a healer’s tent. A field medic risen to a position in the city after the war as recognition of his talents. He would be wasted under his current leadership. “Now, lie back and we’ll get started.”

Kendra placed a careful hand on her shoulder. “...Not yet.” The healer squawked in indignation.

“This is only going to get worse, boss.”

“I know.” She looked at him, and it _hurt_ that he couldn’t fix the pain there. “I’m not asking for a day, just...not yet.”

“Why the wait?”

She shrugged, flinched, and mumbled something incoherent.

They waited.

Kendra soon grew restless, bouncing her leg then standing and pacing the room. Bull fought the urge to put her back on the table and force her down when muscle fell from her lifeless arm to the floor. The fingers on her shoulder twitched, craving a dagger to spin between them. The door burst open.

“Kendra!” Darrell stood in the open arch.

Bull was sent to wait in the hall. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” This was her shit to go through. When she needed him, he’d be there.

“Ready?” Darrell asked, clasping her hand.

She laughed weakly. “ _Fuck_ no.” The cloth was placed in her mouth.

Bull crossed his arms and listened just outside the door. Each muffled scream made his nails dig harder, until even blunted they were drawing blood. _Damn it._ She was his _kadan_ , she was in pain, and he was stuck here unable to _do_ anything. It took several tries for him to notice something tugging on his pants.

Who let the _kids_ back here?

Barta held fast to his pant leg, clutching tight to her sister’s hand with the other. She tugged again after noticing she had his attention. “Yes?” Instead of answering, tears filled her eyes. Reta broke their grip to sign.

“Will”—damn, he didn’t know that word—“be okay?”

“One more time?” Bull signed.

“Will” the sign again, “be okay?”

Will…?

Oh.

“Yeah,” voice rough, he knelt down to pull them both into a hug. “Don’t you worry. Your _tama’s_ gonna be just fine.”

Darrell staggered out of the room some time later.

“How is it?”

“I need to go throw up in a rose bush,” he _was_ peaky at the corners of his mouth and eyes, “but she’s fine. Healers are getting rid of...well…”

“Could you take them?” Darrell glanced down, and his eyes widened.

“Oh, oh _sh_ — Yeah. Come on, you two.” He picked them both up, walking towards the grounds. During their time in Ostwick Darrell had proven to be the favorite with the next generation of Trevelyans, tumbling with the younger ones and giving advice and a helping hand to the oldest. Already he had drawn a few words from Barta. Kendra wouldn’t have trusted them more with herself.

She was still awake, despite appearances. Breathing too shallow, eyes moving under the lids to follow the sounds of the retreating healers. They opened when his shadow fell over her.

“Hey, _kadan_.”

“Hey.” She made to rise, but gave up readily when he motioned her back. Her head turned to look at the bandages. The healers managed to save almost everything above the elbow.

“How you holding up?”

“Feel like shit.” She tried to shrug and hissed. “Could be worse.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Could be Solas once Cassandra sees this.” Could be Solas now _he’s_ seen it.

“Not sure if this will help.”

She glanced at him. “Am I coherent enough for this?”

“Has nothing to do with the Council.”

Kendra pushed her hair back with a sigh. “Go ahead.”

“Don’t mean to frighten you, but the kids just called you ‘Mom’.”

The grip on her hair tightened. “Oh _no_ ,” she groaned, but her bubbling laugh meant she didn’t find it a problem at all.

* * *

The Exalted Council waited another three days after the operation. How _generous_.

Kendra woke alone. She asked Bull for this, to prove to herself she could make it through a morning without help. Still, she was positive he was nearby enough to call if things proved too much. Provided Cole didn’t get there first.

It was a few minutes before she sat up. She took a deep breath, held it, and released.

“Okay.”

Her pants came on easy, but it took some maneuvering to take advantage of gravity and the use of teeth on the collar to get her shirt on and buttoned. Makeup was easier. Though she favored her left, the fingers of her right hand were just as dexterous when it came to fine skills. She’d just have to forgo winged eyeliner for a bit. Combing she usually did one-handed. In the end, she settled on hiding the weapons she could no longer use without her left arm. Otherwise she felt naked. She'd have to get used to it, just not today.

She took a final look in the mirror, straightening her outfit and smoothing back a stray lock of hair.

“Okay.”

“Seconds!” Barta demanded, holding out her bowl.

Kendra reached for the serving ladle before Bull could and stirred it enough to break the skin.

“Okay.”

“We will be ready in a few moments, Inquisitor.” Leliana left to deliver her speech as Divine Victoria.

“I still cannot believe you wish to do this.”

“I know,” Kendra tugged the glove down with her teeth. “I can’t believe I’m giving up that throne.”

“Is a throne _really_ —”

“We took four days to kill the Vinsomer, Cassandra. _Four days_.”

“I remember.” A scattering of applause could be heard beyond the doors. “I must go take my place.”

Kendra walked to an end table. On it rested Divine Justinia’s decree. The Inquisition, everything, had stemmed from the words written by a dead woman.

_Not everything,_ joked Solas’ wry voice.

Was she right, to be doing this? The Inquisition employed as many as it helped. Networks upon networks spanned Thedas.

_And look what that got you,_ mused her own voice at the back of her head, _You knew attending the Conclave was a bad idea._ And if she hadn’t? Would someone else have ended up with the Mark, or would Corypheus have never been interrupted? If someone else had the Mark, could they have done what she'd done?

What was truly awaiting her back at Skyhold, other than a decorative chair?

_Spies,_ came her voice again, _more now than there were before. Being watched and coddled by those who mean well. Even if you destroyed everything, started from the ground up…_ No. This was better than Skyhold. There were still the people she had employed before the Conclave, a few agents from the Inquisition she could hire from her own pocket. Sutherland and his company, for one. She snapped and they jumped.

Kendra picked up the writ and waited for her cue. She stood at attention when the doors opened and strode forward for her last act as Inquisitor.

_Okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kidnap is really just another form of adoption, right?" - Inquisitor Kendra Trevelyan, 9:44 Dragon


End file.
